By BECKY THOMAS
Staff Reporter
I really like cycling, but never really got into it as a sport.
I've made lots of excuses over the years. First, I didn't have a good bike. I loved my rickety ‘80s Schwinn World Traveler and it got me around campus when I was in college, but it was heavy and too small for me. Later, I moved halfway across the country with all my worldly possessions packed into my tiny Ford Escort sedan. Bye, bye, Schwinn.
For a couple of years after that, I didn't really ride at all. Once or twice I got on my husband's super-fancy road bike, and once or twice I fell over trying to get the shoes in the clips. Another time I took it out on the road and got a flat tire five miles out. Without supplies or a phone, I walked four miles in too-small bike shoes—ouch!—before some noble strangers picked me up. You should have seen those blisters. Needless to say, LeMond and I do not get along.
Still, there was a small voice in the back of my head whispering, “Bike...bike.” So last spring, I purchased a used hybrid road bike from a local merchant. Nothing fancy. It looks like a road bike but it has straight handlebars, so I still feel like an amateur.
I biked around my neighborhood in Spokane and once I even biked to Coeur d'Alene. But I still didn't do it regularly. Finding time to eat and sleep as a journalist is a feat in itself, I thought. I'll go this weekend when I have more time, I thought.
And with those excuses in hand my new bike spent most of its first year in the garage, collecting dust.
Fast forward to this past weekend. On Friday I biked 21 miles from my office in Cheney to my apartment in Spokane, taking the Fish Lake Trail where I could, and feeling like a real hardcore cyclist as I cruised down Cheney-Spokane Road to get between sections of the FLT.
The next day I got up early and did that trip in reverse, this time cursing myself as I inched up that same hill in the lowest gear possible. After shooting photos at EWU graduation for an hour, I put my bright yellow shirt back on and pedaled myself back to Spokane.
Forty-two miles later I was home, badly in need of a massage. I had spent almost six hours on my bike in two days and I was tired, but I felt great. I saw lots of wildlife—deer, birds, Eastern grads—greeted countless other happy cyclists and got an awesome workout.
All that time spent on my bike last weekend was the culmination of a few months of buildup. Instead of sleeping in on weekend mornings or watching TV on weekday evenings, I had been getting on my bike and riding for an hour. I found myself watching videos about seat adjustment and researching chain oil. I even—oh geez—signed up for the 112-mile Jedermann Gran Fondo ride that's coming up in exactly one month (?!). I feel like I finally get it. I can't talk about the pros and cons of different bike parts, but I know my hand signals. I may not own much spandex, but I'm still a cyclist.
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